“I don’t know if I’m meant for any of you,” I whisper, the words scraping my throat raw. “But I need you right now.”
He breathes my name like a vow—“Kaia”—and reaches for me.
And I let him.
His arms close around me, solid and warm and real in ways that make the bonds sing instead of ache. The water swirls around us, still touched with residual magic, but it feels less chaotic now. Less like drowning, more like being held by something larger than myself.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my hair, and for the first time since Callum spoke, I believe that something might actually be mine to keep.
Even if I never chose it.
Even if it was always meant to be.
Chapter 41
Malrik
I’ve never seen her like this.
Wrapped in shadow and grief, water swirling with the remnants of magic that shouldn’t exist—ice crystallizing in patterns that mirror her pain while darkness writhes beneath the surface. She’s pulled power from our bond without meaning to, Aspen’s frost bleeding through her desperation, and the sight of it stops my heart.
She needs anchoring. Not answers.
I don’t hesitate. Don’t call out or ask what happened. The devastation radiating from her through our connection tells me everything I need to know—someone hurt her, broke something precious, and left her drowning in doubt.
I wade into the lake fully clothed, boots squelching in the mud, expensive fabric soaking through as I drop to my knees in front of her. The water is freezing where her borrowed ice magic touched it, but I don’t care. She’s curled in on herself like she’s the only thing keeping her pieces together.
“I don’t know if I’m meant for any of you,” she whispers, her voice raw and broken. “But I need you right now.”
The words hit me like a blessing and a curse all at once. She needs me. Not because of fate or bonds or ancient magic, but because in this moment, I’m what she’s choosing.
“Kaia,” I breathe her name like a prayer, like an answer to questions I’ve been asking my whole life.
I open my arms, and she comes to me.
The relief is staggering. She melts against my chest, trembling not with cold but with aftershock, and I wrap her in every piece of strength I have. My shadows reach for hers instinctively, twining together until I can’t tell where mine end and hers begin.
“I’m here,” I murmur against her hair, tasting lake water and salt tears. “I’m here because I want to be. Not because of the bond. Not because of duty.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, violet eyes swimming with unshed tears. “How can you be sure?”
I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing away the water that clings to her cheeks. “Because when I saw you slip away from camp, something in me knew you needed space. Because when I heard you scream, I didn’t hesitate. Because you’re not just my fate, Kaia—you’re my choice.”
Our foreheads touch, breath mingling in the space between us. Her shadows swirl gently around my arms, welcoming rather than defensive, and something in my chest unlocks.
“Malrik,” she whispers, and then her mouth is on mine.
This isn’t like our other kisses—tentative, testing, careful. This is raw desperation, her lips parting under mine like she’s drowning and I’m air. I slide my fingers through her wet hair and kiss her back with all the want I’ve been holding back.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” I whisper against her mouth, tasting the truth of it. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” she breathes, and her hands find the buttons of my soaked shirt.
I watch her fingers work, trembling slightly as she pushes the fabric aside. When her palms press against my chest, skin to skin, the bond flares with something deeper than magic.
Recognition. Completion.
“Kaia,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “If I touch you like this, I won’t stop.”
